A hooded silhouette sat alone under a tall Oak tree in the shadowy Mystwood forest. Branches rustled lightly from above, but the figure did not stir. Eventually a small creature, obviously the source of the previous disturbance, scurried down the tree trunk to rest upon the shoulder of a man staring emptily into the distance. Still he did not stir from his contemplations. Absentmindedly he raised his left hand to stroke the monkey’s white mustache as the creature nuzzled its head against his companion’s gloved finger. Suddenly the sound of cracked branches in the distance echoed through the trees, disturbing the mournful silence of the empty forest. “Astren, hide.” The little monkey leapt forward, landing easily on the forest floor, and darted up a nearby tree. Still… The shrouded man did not stir. The rustling grew louder as its source drew closer and closer. The man cleared his mind, observing nothing but the rise of his chest as his lungs filled with air. Exhaling sharply, he leapt to his feet in a single, swift motion, his hood falling back to reveal a rugged and worn face, covered in dark grey stubble. His eyes too were cold and grey, and a long faded scar stretched across his face. Through the trees, both hunter and prey caught sight of one another. Suddenly the beast charged, a forest troll with only one ear. The greyed warrior easily rolled left, immediately regaining his footing and pivoted round to face the troll’s back. Pulling his blade off his back, he drew his heavy bastard sword, discarding its sheath. The beast regained its balance and turned back to the grizzled man, who met its gaze with unwavering confidence. It was then that the monster finally realized who the true hunter really was, and which one of them was the prey. Hancone let out a furious roar as he charged the beast himself. It attempted to stand its ground, but he sidestepped a heavy right hook, darting past the overextended troll, cutting deep into its exposed right flank as he did so. Pivoting again behind the troll, Hancone swung his sword again, feinting with an over head strike, but swiftly shifting his attack into a powerful uppercut, leaving a deep gash in the beast’s abdomen. The troll moved to knock him down with a sweeping blow, a hit that Hancone couldn’t afford to take. Deftly leaping backwards, the agile swordsman managed to dodge the monster once again. Wounded and enraged, the beast let out a ferocious roar as the two combatants ran at each other. The bulky monstrosity tried another hook, but Hancone had already leapt high in the air with his enchanted boots, performing a front flip over the beast’s head. He hit the ground running and made a dash for the Oak tree he had been resting against mere minutes ago as the troll whirled around, charging after him. The beast was easily gaining on him, building powerful momentum. Hancone felt the rush of pure adrenaline wash over his entire body. Now was the time. Leaping forward, towards the tree, the acrobat threw his feet over his head, while spinning midair. As his feet made contact with the tree, he found himself positioned facing the charging monstrosity. Pushing off the sturdy trunk, Hancone used the force of his enhanced jump to rocket forward, thrusting his sword into the beast’s thick skull, its own momentum driving the blade down to the hilt. The two savage fighters tumbled down to the ground; the troll landing with a hard thump as Hancone stumbled backwards, struggling to keep his footing. Clinging to the last strands of it’s own pitiful existence, the beast tried to move, weakly clawing at its own face, trying to pull out the huge sword that impaled the lower half of its skull and throat. Kicking the monster’s hands away haphazardly, the hunter took hold of his prey, lifting its head and placing a foot on its shoulder. The beast howled as Hancone pulled his blade from the troll’s shattered maw and in one powerful swing, severed the monster’s head clear from its shoulders. --- “Keeper! Wake up!” A voice called out, dragging Hancone reluctantly back to the earth. “Please, there’s been an owl for you. The plague in Sylwynn has grown out of control, the city has requested your help.” As he opened his eyes, a dirty farm boy appeared in his cloudy vision. When the monster hunter had first arrived, the boy had looked at him with admiration and envy, but now all he saw was a dirty mess, laid out in the hay barn. The rough and weathered old man finally managed to prop himself up, dismissing the boy with a series of grunts. Looking down at himself he discovered a bottle still clutched in his hand, and the upper half of his armor still on. He tried to remember what was going on, vague memories surfacing in some sort of random order. As far as he could gather, he had stayed the night on his client’s farm after bringing back the head of the forest troll that had stolen several cows in the past week. The farmer had offered him a room in the house, but the hunter had refused it in favor of the barn. Standing up and shaking the booze out of his head, Hancone reached down to put on the rest of his black leather armor. He found his saddlebags and took out a sharpening stone, as well as his sword that had been laid out next to where he had been sleeping. Stepping outside, the greyed man sat himself down on the farmer’s wood-chopping block and went to work. After a few minutes passed the farmer’s eldest daughter emerged from the farmhouse carrying a plate of eggs and potatoes. “My father wanted me to thank you again for killing that nasty troll, Keeper.” She smiled, blushing as she handed over the plate. She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, and whispered in his ear, “And I wanted to thank you again too…” As more of his memories suddenly returned, Hancone immediately realized what she meant. He was only in his early 30’s, but still, she couldn’t be a day over 22… What had he just done? “I am glad I could help.” He replied in his low, even voice. “Would you tell your father to send the owl back to Commander Thorne?” “Of course, what is it all about?” She asked, hoping to learn more of this strange man. The Keeper looked up to the sky, it was almost midday. “Let him know that I ride for Sylwynn.” --- After he had finished eating, Hancone clicked his tongue softly, signaling for Astren to come. He fed the little monkey a few slices of potato before tapping his shoulder twice, prompting the little creature to climb up his leg and hang to his neck. The hunter loaded up his saddlebags and readied his horse, easily swinging up into the saddle. Just before he left, the farmer ran out, “Wait, Keeper, I never paid you for your services. We don’t have much, but please, take this gold for your troubles.” He said. Hancone turned back for only a moment. In the doorway stood the man’s two daughters and his son. “The troll has taken enough.” He answered, flicking his reins. The horse began to trot, soon carrying the lone hunter out of sight. Within a few hours, the whole family had gone back to their typical routines. Once again, it was as if he had never been there at all. --- By the time he had arrived in Sylwynn, night had fallen. Hounded by the rain, The Keeper finally reached the city gates, “Hey! Turn back, you fool!” Called a guard from inside the gatehouse, “I can’t let you into the city so late. Why are you even here? Haven’t you heard about the plague?” Without answering, Hancone rode up to the gatehouse. “Are you deaf? There is a deadly plague in the city, and horrible creatures wander the streets of Sylwynn at night!” “I know.” The hunter answered simply, still hidden underneath his cloak, and sitting atop his horse. “What? What’s your name? And why are you here?” “I have come to put an end to this blight.” “Are you out of your mind? These are voidling demons, we’ve no use for a doctor here!” “Take me to Thorne.” “Didn’t you hear me? I said we don’t need your help, healer!” The guard started to yell, growing impatient standing out in the pouring rain. “This man is no healer, Johnson…” Called a voice from within the gatehouse. “This cold-blooded son of a bitch has killed more voidlings than our whole unit combined!” From within the house emerged a second guard, laughing to himself. “It is good to see you again, Captain Garell.” Hancone said, “How bad are things within the city walls?” “Real bad. When gate duty is a reward, well you know things are messed up. I’d rather be back fighting that voidwurm over down by the coast, at least the men that thing killed stayed it…” Garell answered, shaking his head. “Well, there’s no use standing out here I suppose. Let’s get your horse taken care of and I’ll bring you to Thorne, I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. The barracks aren’t in the safe zone so we got the guard and the militia set up in old Neran’s Inn.”